Danzo Shimura's eyes also gleamed with interest—but after glancing at Hiruzen beside him, he instantly recognized what his old friend was thinking.
Bastard.
He'd missed his chance at the Hokage seat years ago. Now that succession was being smoothly handed to the next generation, the position had slipped even further from reach.
If he allowed Hiruzen to install the Fifth Hokage as well, then Danzo Shimura would never have a chance in his lifetime.
Simple mathematics made it clear. Calculating based on Hiruzen's tenure—one person ruling for thirty years meant sixty years for two. Even at twenty years each, that was still four decades away.
By then, forget becoming Hokage. Simply being alive would be an achievement.
Orochimaru has no chance anymore...?
Danzo's eyes lit up as a new idea struck him.
If Hiruzen Sarutobi could cultivate and support the next generation of Hokage, why couldn't he?
For some reason, his attention drifted to the other youth.
Ryomen Sukuna stood with four arms crossed, looking thoroughly impatient as he stared at Gojo Satoru with obvious displeasure.
Elsewhere, another heart grew restless.
"Space-Time Ninjutsu? He was clearly hit, yet claims he wasn't?" Obito Uchiha's remaining eye manifested the Sharingan.
"Are you certain you didn't mishear?"
White Zetsu regarded the transformed Obito with unusual seriousness. "I saw it myself. He wasn't hit. That so-called Gojo Satoru said it directly."
Obito felt a surge of panic. He'd only recently awakened Kamui—how could such a similar technique suddenly appear?
"Aren't Gojo Satoru's eyes similar to the Byakugan? Could the Byakugan also undergo a transformation like the Mangekyo?" He couldn't help glancing at the withered figure seated on the stone chair nearby.
"No need for panic." The calm voice immediately settled his nerves.
"The Byakugan possesses no transformation comparable to the Mangekyo. That is merely a space-time secret technique. Don't frighten yourself."
"Moreover, as an Uchiha, you should never doubt your own eyes."
Madara Uchiha's entire body had shriveled—he looked as though death might claim him at any moment.
He cast a measured glance at Obito, perceiving the panic within.
Ultimately, this was just a twelve-year-old who'd graduated from the Academy only recently. His knowledge base and way of thinking remained neither mature nor stable.
This was precisely why Madara had to force himself to hold on.
Recalling White Zetsu's intelligence, he coughed lightly.
"The Sharingan differs from all others. This difference brings not only powerful strength—the techniques it awakens cannot be compared to mere secret arts."
"Though I remain unclear about the specific mysteries of that space-time technique, I can roughly analyze its principles."
His voice turned thoughtful.
"It's nothing more than using the Byakugan to emit chakra from every tenketsu, forming a special protection with space-time attributes."
"But it differs from your Kamui. Yours is spatial displacement—capable of dodging attacks with absolute certainty."
"Regardless of an attack's strength, it cannot affect your ability to phase through. The other party's technique operates differently."
"His principle isn't evasion. He merely shapes a special shield—using it to block attacks."
"The shield's strength might be invincible. But the person sustaining it is another matter entirely."
"As long as one possesses sufficient power to destroy the person behind it, whether the shield is invincible becomes irrelevant. Furthermore, whether this shield truly is invincible remains unknown."
Madara's gaze fixed on Obito.
"Therefore, this person's technique cannot compare to your Kamui."
The turmoil in Obito's heart gradually settled. His hand, hidden beneath his clothes, slowly clenched into a fist.
"I understand. Just the useless efforts of people without the Sharingan."
"But their strength isn't negligible. Their addition will make Konoha even stronger."
"You intend to sabotage their joining?" Madara frowned slightly.
"No." Obito shook his head, his gaze shifting to the nearby mirror.
In its reflection, his single eye glowed red—Sharingan activated.
"To collect the Nine-Tails, all Five Great Nations will become our enemies."
"But besides Konoha, the others aren't worth mentioning."
"Only Konoha—the Konoha possessing the bulk of the Uchiha clan—is the enemy that must be weakened."
"What do you intend?" Madara regarded him calmly.
Facing the mirror, Obito's eyes hardened. His voice turned cold.
"The Nine-Tails."
"I'll release it. Then use the Sharingan to control it—have it destroy Konoha Village. Frame the Uchiha clan."
"The Nine-Tails isn't easily sealed. Even if released, we have no means to collect it currently." Madara's tone remained neutral.
"No need. Let Konoha reseal it."
Observing this cold-voiced Obito, Madara confirmed that hatred had completely consumed the boy's heart.
The plan's execution should not be abandoned halfway.
"Then proceed according to your design. White Zetsu and Black Zetsu will assist you."
After speaking, Madara slowly closed his eyes.
Konoha. Forbidden Jutsu Research Institute.
"Lord Zenshu, this is your office." A ninja led Zenshu to a spacious room.
Zenshu nodded slightly, entered, and surveyed the space.
"Your laboratory is currently under expansion—approximately ten to fifteen days until completion. Lord Hokage hopes you can finalize your research project application during this period. He'll approve the subsequent funding as quickly as possible."
"Understood." Zenshu nodded, glanced around once more, and walked out.
Clanking sounds echoed from nearby. Adjacent to the office was a construction site where a laboratory framework was already taking shape.
It appeared to be a research institute expanded from an originally modest facility.
Though he held the Deputy Director title, Zenshu's initial conditions had included the requirement for an independent research space.
Crossing a street, a courtyard came into view.
A thick-browed youth stood there, blocked by Choso.
"Please—let me see Lord Zenshu. I want to know where my father's remains are. Did he leave any final words?"
The youth's voice carried clearly. Several passersby glanced over with curiosity.
Choso stood with arms crossed, expression flat. "I already told you. The Clan Head isn't home."
"What's happening?" Zenshu's cold voice cut through.
"Clan Head. This person is asking for you."
Might Guy—who had looked dejected moments ago—brightened immediately and turned toward the voice.
"Mr. Zenshu! My name is Might Guy. Do you know where my father's remains are? Did he leave any final words?"
"Might Guy?" Zenshu's eyes flickered with interest.
He noted the numerous pedestrians nearby, then looked at the youth.
"This isn't the place. Come inside with me."
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